Melvin Stuff and Oneshots
by purplefern
Summary: Just posting a bunch of my oneshots about Melvin from AO3 here. Will be mostly Show!verse. I include any Melvinborg oneshots in this too. Includes: friendships, betrayals, hurt/comfort, headcanons, Melvin's homelife, Melvinborg introspection,some Merica stuff, and maybe some actual happiness every once in a while.
1. Chapter 1

Brief summary: Season 3 Episode 1 broke my heart. Melvin's trying, he's really trying, but in the end it's the same as it ever is, George is using him in order to get what he wants.

* * *

"It worked! We fooled everyone!" Melvin heard George say, as he was making his way to Principa-uh Camp Director Krupp's office. He was going to request a move to George's cabin, since they were friends now.

"Yeah. We got exactly what we wanted"

Harold? Why was he talking to Harold? Weren't they enemies now? He pondered this to himself, missing what the two of them said until he was snapped back to the present when he heard George say, sounding disgusted, "I still can't believe I made a comic with _Melvin_".

"Ha!" Harold replied, in a tone that could have been easily taken for sarcastic, if the listener happened to be very sensitive, "I can't wait to read it".

_What?_ Melvin's brain, in a rare moment, stopped in its tracks, and he felt his heart clench as the two friends laughed and walked out of the main office. George and Harold were friends now? And they were mocking him? But what about…

Tears pricked at his eyes as his brain played George's disgusted comment on loop. He was only stopped from breaking down further by Dressy's distracting music.

"Dressy!" he snapped at her, "Do you mind?!"

"Ha, sorry. More betrayaaaalll".

Discreetly wiping his hand over his eyes, he muttered, "Whatever", and left for his own cabin. It was the middle of the day, so there probably wasn't going to be anyone else in there. Good. No one got to see him like this. He didn't want to see himself like this.

But even though he tried to ignore it, tried to be mad instead, he _did _feel betrayed. And used. And it hurt. _I thought I was doing it right_. His thoughts whispered, tears pricking back at his eyes, and he tried again to swipe them away. _I was really trying this time_. Unbidden the image of his future self came to mind, crazy, dangerous, willing to kill George and Harold. He didn't want to be that, he really didn't, and he thought he was improving. He thought that George was his friend.

They had made a comic together! Melvin would never sink so low, not for just anyone.

_And wasn't it an interesting comic?_ His inner thoughts mocked, _A sad story about a dangerous monster no one liked, who just wanted to make a friend. _

"Shut up!" he screamed out loud, hands clenched at his sides, wanting to will his thoughts away. Immediately embarrassed, he slapped his hands over his mouth, and checked to make sure that no one noticed his outburst. There was no one. He was alone. Good. Good.

He managed to keep up the fight against tears until he was curled up in his bunk in the cabin. As he had predicted, the building was empty except for him. Pulling the covers over his head, he allowed himself a pitiful sniffle. The tears wouldn't stop now, and they trailed down his face, dripping all over his sheets. "We really fooled everyone!" he remembered George saying, and he buried himself deeper in his cover. It had all been a lie, a big con. And he had been George and Harold's fool. Again. Of course. Of course. Why did he think it would be any different this time? Just because this time he was _trying_? Angrily, he wiped the tears from his eyes.

That was enough crying. He was just degrading himself. And getting his covers wet and covered in snot. So, falling back on habits he had been trying to get out of, he got mad instead. That flat tire, George and his kidiot "best friend" had used him! He wouldn't let them get away with that. He would be no one's fool! With a forced smile, he climbed out his bed and marched back towards Krupp's office.

He didn't have a friend? Fine. But he would make sure that George lost _his _precious best friend.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_* Time Skip *_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

"Melvin, dude!" He tensed and glared spitefully as George ran up to him right by the brick wall Krupp had built (with his help, of course). It made him more annoyed and angry to see that George was mad, "What the heck? Why did you tell Krupp about our plan?"

George talked like _he _was the one who had gotten used and lied to. Even worse, George didn't even seem to realize what was wrong with all of this, and the knowledge made Melvin's scowl deepen. "_Why_!? Are you seriously that oblivious, you dented coat rack?"

George blinked, clearly not understanding what he was talking about. After a moment of thinking it over, the boy shrugged, saying, "Ok you got me. I have no idea what you're talking about".

Melvin stared, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly a few times at...well, glass houses and all that, but at George's sheer insensitivity. Finally he managed to yell, "You _used_ me, you hingeless door! I thought that we were friends!"

George blinked. "Huh? Oh, that? Well, we had to make Krupp think me and Harold were enemies" he shrugged again, "It worked pretty well, too". Brightening, while Melvin's mood only sunk further with every word, he added, "If it makes you feel better, Harold and I both liked your comic. You've got some skills".

The compliment helped. A little bit. He was tempted, for a moment, to tell George everything. To be completely honest about how much their apparent friendship had meant, about how he was trying to be better, about how much he was truly hurt. But it was still too little, too late. George had lied to him. Pretended to be his friend while Melvin had taken it all seriously. He couldn't trust him.

"Of course I have skills" he spat out instead, sidestepping his original conversation, "If you idiots can make comics, it would be no challenge to my vastly superior mind".

George rolled his eyes, and Melvin felt a bitter satisfaction at having restored their status quo. "Yeah, ok. That's the last time I give _you _a compliment".

Melvin shrugged bitterly (if that was even possible), 'Whatever. Like I need compliments from the likes of _you _anyway. Now leave me alone!"

And George did.

* * *

_Wrote this for some catharsis after watching the first episode of S3 made me sad. Like, Melvin just looks so genuinely happy to be considered George's friend that whole episode, and it is so sweet. And then he learns he was just a pawn in one of George and Harold's schemes? Ouch. I mean, at least with Erica she was in on it. Anyway, watching that ep made me want to yell at George a little bit, so here we are. _

_Hope you enjoyed this, if you haven't already read it on AO3. R&R, see you next chapter. _


	2. Chapter 2

Brief Summary: Stanley attempts conversation with a very mad Melvin as they both pack up their things to go home.

_Sooo, the season 3 finale also made me kinda sad. And also mad. At this point I kinda give up on George and Harold ever being nice, and the three of them being friends._

_Also did you ever wonder how it would go if Melvin ranted to an actual human instead of to a machine or animal? Like, you know, talk about his problems with people? And more of a leap here, what if someone listened? Soooo, here's this. For the record, the choice of Stanley is not at all random, he is often friendly to Melvin throughout S3 (Altitooth, Barfalisk, and Gumbilina episodes as examples off of the top of my head), so he's just a likely candidate for someone to end up listening to a Melvin Monologue. Are they friends? I dunno, but I want this child to be happy, so for the sake of this fic they will be._

* * *

Walking into his cabin to finish packing up his things, it was hard not to notice the practical storm clouds that hovered over the cabin. Stanley felt more sweat drip nervously down his back, and he wondered what, if anything, he should do. He couldn't help but be a little concerned, especially with the angry muttering coming from Melvin's side of the cabin. Experience showed that a mad Melvin never ended well, for him or anyone else

Yeah, Melvin had turned him into Poopacabra for a little but that had been more weird than anything considering how this summer had gone. It was water under the bridge as far as he was concerned. And also, the more he kinda thought about it, the more he realized that the last few days had not been kind to his cabin mate. Looking over at the cowboy outfit violently thrown in the corner, he shuffled his feet and awkwardly attempted to break ice that was several feet thick.

"Sooo, crazy summer right?"

Melvin tensed where he was folding one of many identical button up shirts into a suitcase, but did not turn around.

Stanley kept trying, "It'll be kinda nice to get home, huh?"

The other boy just silently packed another shirt and did not respond. The response - or the lack of it- made Stanely worry a little more. Usually Melvin would _at least_ snap at him to be quiet by now. This silence was weird, and not in a normal weird Melvin way.

"Hey, are you okay?" He finally decided to ask when he could think of nothing else more subtle.

"I'm fine, you moldy sack of potatoes" Melvin snapped in reply, still not turning around. Stanley gave a sigh of relief. Snapping and Melvinsults were way more normal.

"That's good. All of that quiet was kinda freaking me out a little".

"Why wouldn't I be fine?" he continued, and Stanley was a little confused. Snapping was normal, but that was usually the end of it. But, alright, guess he had more to say. That was alright with Stanley. "I'm finally leaving this purgatory of a camp. Even though," he muttered angrily to his suitcase, as though he had forgotten that Stanley was in the room, "I'm most likely returning next summer thanks to those dead batteries George and Harold".

"Uh, okay?" Stanley stammered in reply, not entirely certain that Melvin was actually talking to him anymore.

"And it's pretty much guaranteed," he continued, "to be just as, if not more, awful, since those two numbskulls, for reasons I cannot comprehend, decided that Krupp should be in charge again. The man turned a children's summer camp into a sweatshop, _twice, _in the _same _summer, and they sided with him over me!"

This was the point where it would be normal and expected for Stanely to slowly back out of the room to avoid this awkward monologue, regret ever having asked, and leave Melvin by himself to rant to his suitcase. But he didn't. He wasn't raised that way. His parents and siblings taught him to be kind, and that when people are hurting - even if they're awful like Mr Krupp, or weird like Melvin - you should try and help. Sometimes all it took was something as simple as asking if they were okay. Something told him that Melvin was not okay. So he stayed in the room and tried to hear out Melvin's one-sided ranting.

"Who do those two broken door knobs think they are?" he raged, aggressively shoving another shirt into the bag, "Choosing to help that monster Mr Krupp when we had a deal. I thought even they would have had enough intelligence to see that he was their enemy, and that they would be on my side for once. No logical, thinking, person would possibly choose a careless, hateful, again, _sweatshop making_, man over my flawless reasoning".

"But _apparently_" he yelled, gesturing angrily and so mad that he definitely was forgetting that he had an audience, "I'm far more abhorrent than any sweatshop!"

Ok, now Stanley had no idea what to do. This was getting dangerously close to "I'll show them, I'll show them all" territory. And also uncomfortably personal, more so than he was used to from the young scientist.

All the same, the words worried him. Melvin didn't really think that did he? It just wasn't true. Sure, Melvin could do some bad things (Like the laser monster. That had been pretty bad), but with all the times that Stanely had tried talking to him, he didn't think that Melvin was a bad person. At least, he didn't think he was as bad as illegal child labor. Over the course of the summer, he had seen Melvin try before. A bad person, he reasoned, would never try to be better. Maybe it was time someone told Melvin that.

So instead of making himself scarce, he decided to do the opposite. Climbing the ladder of the bunk he sat down next to Melvin, and before he could yell at him said, "Hey I might like sweat, but, like, you're better than a sweatshop, you know?"

At first Melvin just startled, having forgotten that Stanely was in the room, but after pulling himself back to the present, he actually had to think for a moment about what the sweaty boy had actually _said_. "What?" he asked, and for the first time in this "conversation", the young genius actually turned to face Stanley, his features warring between disgust and confusion as he processed Stanley's words. (And if his eyes looked slightly wet, well, Stanely wouldn't say anything. They could just blame allergies.)

Stanely shrugged, "I don't really know everything you're talking about, but I think you're an okay guy. I mean, you're weird, but that's okay." he laughed, awkwardly, "I'm weird too".

"Don't compare me to you, you freak of nature!" he retorted, but the insult was more defensive and confused than angry. "What are you even doing up here? You're getting my bunk all gross and wet".

"I'm just trying to be friendly" he offered hesitantly, "You seemed like you wanted someone to talk to, and my parents always say to try to be nice to people".

"Ah, so you're only talking to me because your parents told you to,'' replied Melvin, looking strangely satisfied. That just confused Stanely even more. Why'd he look like he had won an argument, when they weren't even having one? Scratching his head, trying and failing to figure out the other boy's logic, he just said simply, "Huh? No. I just thought, I'unno, that you could use a friend. Or something".

"Friend?" despite his intelligence, Melvin said the word as if it were a foreign language. "We aren't friends you overripe banana".

Stanely was a little disappointed at that. He had thought that they were, since they had talked quite a bit over the summer, "Oh. I thought we were".

At that, Melvin stopped short in his packing,dropping the half-folded shirt in his hands, and stared at Stanley, his mouth slightly agape. Stanely wasn't sure if he had ever seen Melvin dumbfounded before (since "dumb" and "Melvin" were two words he hardly ever thought about next to each other), but that was the only way he could describe his cabin mate's expression.

"You...did?" the young prodigy asked, disbelief evident in his voice. It made the farm boy wilt some, that Melvin was that offended at the idea of them being friends. Sure, he was just simple country boy Stanley, and Melvin could, like, tear apart the universe in an hour, but he hadn't thought that Melvin disliked him that much.

"Yeah" he replied, embarrassed, and he scooched to the edge of the bunk bed, ready to leave, "But, I mean, I just _thought_. We don't have to be friends, if you don't want to be". He turned to climb down the ladder, but was stopped in his tracks by a sudden soft-spoken

"I…" Melvin cleared his throat awkwardly, biting his bottom lip anxiously and looking practically bashful-another first. He hadn't meant to reply, the word had just burst out of him, and he warred over whether he wanted to voice his thoughts out loud.

Stanely hovered over the edge of the ladder, patiently giving Melvin time to say what he wanted to say. The ginger toyed with his hands and glanced around the room, considering, evaluating, debating. Seeming to come to a conclusion, he took a steadying breath and said, in a stronger but still hesitant voice, "I… do. Want to be...friends." He tested the word uncertainly, like he was still getting used to how it sounded.

"Oh! Ok, then!" Chirped Stanley cheerily, climbing back up onto the bed.

"I mean...that is...I suppose you have been good company this summer," Melvin said, fiddling with the zipper of his suitcase and not looking at Stanley.

Stanley laughed, sitting back down next to his friend with a small sploosh, and he smiled wider when he saw that it looked like Melvin was actually trying to hide a shudder of disgust at the sweat that was soaking into the bed. "Well, I try" he replied jovially.

After a beat of silence, companionable instead of heavy now, he asked, "So, crazy summer, right?", going back to his original conversation starter. But this time, the ice had thawed somewhat, and the cabin as a whole felt lighter.

Melvin got back to packing, but this time responded with a good-natured eye roll (or as good natured as you got from Melvin anyway), "That would be one way to describe it, yes".

Leaning back, Stanley tapped his feet together, reflecting, "Yeah, between all of the monsters, and climbing that mountain, and starving in the wilderness, it'll be kinda nice to be home"

"Hey", he added, wondering now about said giant monsters (many of which were in some way because of Melvin), "How are you going to get all of your inventions home, anyway? I don't think the Goat-Getter will fit on the bus".

"Oh, that won't be a problem. I brought my do-you-want-size-with-that 2000 for just such an occasion" the genius replied, grabbing what looking like a cooling fan from the edge of his bed.

Stanley blinked owlishly at him, "Yer what?"

Melvin made a conscious effort to not snap at him for not understanding his invention. He just got this, he just said that they should be friends, he couldn't ruin it already. Instead he swallowed his snarky reply and simply said instead, "Uh, it's a shrink ray. There were some...extenuating circumstances when I was naming it. Not my best work. But, name aside, it makes packing easier".

"Cool" Stanley replied good-naturedly. Stanely continued to keep Melvin company while he packed, ooh-ing and ahh-ing obligingly when he shrunk his summertime inventions to put them away. They talked a bit, Melvin unsteadily and awkward in such a casual conversation, about the summer and about going back to school. Melvin was surprised (though in hindsight he really shouldn't have been) to have a semi-intelligent conversation about botany. At one point he actually got so caught up conversing that he forgot to be packing. It was...different. It was nice.

After some time of talking, Stanley finally slid off the bunk bed to grab his own things, mostly-packed on top of his own bed. Waving to Melvin, he slung his bag over his shoulder and crossed the cabin for the door. "Well, my parents will be here soon, so I gotta go. See you at school, friend".

Melvin blinked at the title for a moment, still a bit thrown off by Stanley's so easy acceptance of what for him was a major leap, but carefully responded, "Yes, I suppose you will. I'll… be seeing you. As well. Bye?" he offered uncertainly with an awkward wave.

Stanley didn't mind the awkwardness, and grinned largely at the attempt, glad that Melvin considered him a friend, too. Before he went out the door, he turned around and on a whim offered, "Feel free to come over to my house if you want. My mom loves an excuse to make snacks for people" he laughed at the Peet family inside joke.

Despite shuddering at the thought of where those snacks would mostly likely come from, Melvin smiled at the suggestion. It was a small, gentle smile, an expression not usually seen on the genius. He couldn't say he had ever had snacks at a friend's house before, or that anyone had ever offered, and the idea sounded...pleasant. But, (this time) he wasn't going to be a fool. Stanley, he warned himself, could change his mind. It could still be taken away.

So, "Maybe" he said, not willing to fully commit. The complexity of the situation was clearly lost on Stanley, though, because he kept smiling, seemingly taking the "maybe" as a "yes".

"Okay, then. See you around" he cried cheerfully one more time, before leaving Camp Lake Summer Camp behind. Melvin was left alone in the cabin to do the rest of his packing, but this time it felt different. Less...permanent. Now he could look forward to returning to school for more reasons than one.

* * *

_There's my attempt to make the ending of S3 less awful for our boy. (Although it's funny, practically right after I finish writing this and say that I give up on George and Harold, the amazing and wonderful show writers gave us the Hack-o-Ween special. If you haven't watched that yet somehow, go watch it! Especially if you are a Melvin fan. Now let's just hope George and Harold mean it, and that Melvin gets to continue to be happy in whatever next season may come.)_

_Also had to re-upload this chapter after the ending didn't originally post for some reason. So that was annoying. Enjoy the new, improved, and actually completed second oneshot in this collection. _

_R&R if you can, reviews make me happy. :) See you in the next oneshot. _


	3. Chapter 3

Brief Summary: Just a little oneshot with a Doopity the Dancing Dolphin headcanon.

_Hello and welcome to a pointless Doopity headcanon/theory, with a heavy dose of headcanons about Melvin's home life and relationship with his dad. I hope you enjoy this thing that I randomly thought of as I make a one off gag from the show sad for some reason. _

* * *

Mr Mrs Sneedly were in the lab, hard at work. Gaylord and his wife had been tasked by the government to work on a very important mission of genetically altered dolphin super soldiers. After weeks of research, they had managed some success with one particular test subject, which they were keeping in a large tank in their living room. So far, the animal appeared to have some intelligence, but it was still not completely right, and all it seemed to want to do was dance. And instead of shooting lasers, like it was supposed to, all it did was manage to shoot rainbows.(When they tested the combat capabilities of the rainbows, hoping that maybe they could still work as desired, results were negative. The rainbows couldn't hurt anything, and were just kind of gross to look at in general.)

None of this, of course, mattered much to their 7 year old son. From the moment he came back from school one day to find an intelligent dancing rainbow shooting dolphin in his house, his reaction was much the same as practically any 7 year old (he may have been a super genius, but he was, after all, still a human child, and what child could resist the charm and wonder of a dancing dolphin?). He was enamoured by that dolphin, from the very moment he saw it.

Not having any friends or anything to visit with after school, he could often be found with his face pressed against the aquarium glass, watching and conversing with the marine abomination. He would spend hours sitting by the tank, and telling it all about his day. He even went so far as to name it.

This was when his father decided it was time to intervene. It was one thing to watch a test subject, and it was alright to be fascinated (science was fascinating, after all), but if his son was going to be a scientist he was going to have to learn to distance himself and remain objective. Naming this creature was going too far.

So Melvin surprisingly found himself encountering his father one day when he was going to have his daily chat with the newly-christened Doopity.

"I've noticed you've been spending a lot of time by this particular experiment, son".

Keeping his head down, he politely replied, attempting to sound as mature and professional as possible, "Yes, sir. I, um, find Doopity...very interesting".

" 'Doopity', uh huh", Gaylord raised a critical brow at the statement, and chastised, "Don't name it, Melvin. This is a lab animal, not a pet. It may not even survive the duration of the experiment. Remember, it's unprofessional for a scientist to get so attached to a test subject."

"Yes sir".

Despite the warnings from his father, Melvin couldn't keep away from Doopity. After a bad day, Doopity's, uh, "kind" gaze and dancing cheered him up in a way nothing else really could. He felt like, when he talked, Doopty listened, there was just something about the look in his eyes that made it feel like he was heard and understood. He personally considered Doopity to be his best friend.

Meanwhile his parents were still trying to make the dancing dolphin less of an idiot, and more of a terror of the deep capable of competent underwater warfare. So far, they had gotten nowhere. In fact, to the Sneedlys it seemed like they may have made it dumber instead. They juggled numerous theories, and ran multiple tests on the animal, but still no success. Maybe dolphins were just too nice? Should they have tried sharks instead? Time was running out, and it looked like they had to regrettably chalk this experiment up as a failure. Plus having to care for that dolphin was costing way more than it was worth. It was time to pack this experiment up, and send in what they could.

That afternoon, Melvin came back from school ready to tell his pal Doopity all about what he did, but he gaped for a moment when he saw that the whole aquarium was gone. He pushed down his rising panic, reasoning that the tank had just been moved. Or Doopity was just somewhere else for tests. After all, even if Doopity was his friend, he _was _also his parents' experiment. Though he normally would never interrupt them, this time Melvin made his way to his parents' lab, hoping for good answers to his questions.

"Father, mother?" he leaned cautiously into the lab, peeking around the room for his parents, still hesitant to interrupt their work. Gratefully, it looked like they were just doing paperwork at the moment, and turned to face him.

"Yes, dear?" his mom asked, and his dad grunted in acknowledgement of his presence, which was enough.

"I was just wondering. Where did Doo-the dolphin experiment go? Are you running tests?"

His father sighed, and his mother shuffled papers anxiously.

"Oh, that" his father said, setting aside his pile of papers to address him, "That experiment was a failure, I'm afraid. We had the test subject released back into the wild".

"What?!" he cried, unable to stop himself even though he hated arguing with his parents, "Do you mean that Doopity is _gone_?!"

"Well, yes" replied the adult straightforwardly, confused at the reaction, "There's no point in keeping around a failed experiment".

"He's _gone_?!" the child wailed, tears springing to his eyes. "But I loved him! he sobbed, tears rolling down his face for the loss of his friend. "I want Doopity back!"

The dad grimaced, looking away from his child to busy himself again with the paperwork. He looked back up and his son was still standing there, sobbing and rubbing at his eyes, intermittently hiccuping what sounded like Doopity and who could tell what else through the tears. All of this over one lab animal. He looked to his wife, hoping she had any idea what to do for a crying child, but she looked just as confused as he did.

"Ok, why are you? Stop crying. I'm...yeah I don't know how to deal with this, I have to…" Grabbing the rest of the paperwork, in the hopes that he could actually get it finished on time, and leaving their son to his wife, he left through the door that led to their bedroom to finish his work uninterrupted by unreasonable emotional outbursts.

To her credit, his mom made an attempt to console him, rounding the table to pat him on the head. She gibbered her way through a kind of condolence, telling him, "Oh, that's terrible, Melvin. I know you liked that thing". She ended with awkward mumbles, letting her hands fall to her sides, seeming to not know what to do anymore. Giving him an intended encouraging shove towards the hall, she told him, "Why don't you get a snack, hmm? I need to go help your father".

Sniffling, and still recovering his normal breathing, he dutifully replied, "okay". And left the lab behind. He made himself a snack, gazing towards the living room where Doopity had once been, and felt tears coming back as he went up to his room. Looking around his room, he briefly wondered who he would talk to now. Reminiscing about his long talks with his beloved Doopity and already regretting his loss, he decided to settle at his desk and half-heartedly design a new invention.

And so, he never saw Doopity again. He lost him.

* * *

_And that's definitely what happened. _

_This started out as just a little blurb of headcanon and just kind of sprawled out of control. Also I can only picture Melvin being really formal with his dad, and the whole thing with him just clicked. Because sensitive Melvin emotionally distant and objective science dad = a recipe for emotional disaster. _

_RR if you feel like it. Reviews always make me happy. Hope you have a nice day despite just reading about a seven year old crying his eyes out._


	4. Chapter 4

_Who's ready for some overly depressing character musings for the Captain Underpants cartoon?_

* * *

Summary: Sometimes Melvinborg was awoken in the middle of the night by nightmares. Other nights he just didn't sleep.

* * *

Sometimes he was awoken in the middle of the night by minor nightmares. They were nothing major, really, just vague sensory details that he only barely remembered when he woke up. Sometimes there was a residual phantom pain of burns on his robotic limbs that couldn't be burned, but it was nothing he couldn't ignore enough to go back to sleep.

Other nights he had dreams (_not _nightmares. He refused to admit that something so relatively commonplace would frighten him even subconsciously) about the hospital. When he woke from those, it always took him a moment to remember that he could move _both _of his arms, memories of the numb paralysis of the hospital bed blending with the lack of sensation from his unfeeling metal arm. But it could move, he could move under his own power, he was _fine_. He spent a large remainder of those nights pacing before he attempted to go back to bed, just to remind himself that he could.

The night after the mutant invasion he had no nightmares because he did not sleep. Seeing those creatures again, as pathetic as it sounded considering they were half-rear end, brought too many unpleasant memories to the surface, and the thought of them kept him awake. He closed his eyes, but he re-lived the stomach dropping feeling of a car in free-fall as the engine went out. His eyes shot back open. Closed his eyes, and felt the scalding oppressive heat of an explosion that was far too close. Shot awake again. Shaking the thoughts off, and shoving them to the back of his mind where they belonged (he _was not _pathetic, he was fine. He could walk and see fine, the accident didn't matter anymore, why was he still thinking of it), he got out of bed, threw on one of his shirts, and grabbed his laptop to go sit in his office instead. If he wasn't going to sleep, he was going to get work done.

Of course his browsing could only stay so productive at, he checked the time, 2:30 am. Before too long, he stopped even pretending to work, and went right back to staring into space and thinking far too much.

Those stupid butterflies, he morosely mused, staring blankly at his laptop screen, were one of the last things he had seen with fully human eyes, and wasn't that a sad going away present for half of his vision. If he had decided to intervene somehow today, he couldn't help but wonder, would he be fully human right now? That was a mental trail that, despite the whole reason he was here was to change the timeline, he didn't want to go down. Instead he took the question and shoved it away with all of the other thoughts he was going to ignore.

He distracted himself with busy work, planning on ways to impress Elitinati, and sketching out blueprints for inventions that would probably be scrapped in the light of day, until school began the next morning. (By then his history looked kind of like: 24 hour cupcake stores near me, Elitinati-homepage, Elitinati-Admissions, Elitinati-Contact Us, what flavor ice cream are you quiz, treatments for insomnia, Star Wars discussion board, and several other searches as he cast out at random for something to distract his mind with.)

But it was fine. That hadn't been his first sleepless night, and he knew how to keep his mind busy. It was something he was quite good at. There was always something to do, after all. Some idea to chase down, some invention to plan out. It was probably for the better he didn't sleep-more got done that way. (Some nights he was kept up by nightmares, some nights he stayed awake to avoid them, other nights there was just something in him that kept him from falling asleep, and he refused to look up what it was for fear of seeing things like "PTSD" or "guilt" and having to deal with the building pile of thoughts at the back of his mind.)

It wasn't like there was anything he could do about it anyway. What, should he go see a therapist? It was a little late for _that_. And what would he tell them, anyway, that he was kept awake by the image of two of his former classmates that he had left for dead (but they currently weren't dead, yet and it just served for another reason he hated seeing George and Harold's faces everyday).

Recently his nightmares had started to include George and Harold. He did his best to ignore it and wave it off as random data being processed by his brain, and that it didn't actually mean anything. The human brain, after all, did many strange things. (They had been in his dreams before, saying vague things that sounded like accusations, but since he had come back to the past they were showing up more and more. He tried to not think about that, either.)

Typically, if he had these dreams and he woke up between 11 and 1, he could ignore them like all of the others and get back to sleep. And if it was 4 or later, then he could just accept that he was awake, and distract himself with getting ready for the day, school would start in just about three hours at that point. But during that inbetween, the witching hour in the darkest part of the night, he would lay thinking, debating on his choice to leave them for dead. At the time it had been a pretty clear decision, fuelled by anger. The two had just ruined his chance at his dream school, and in general worked very hard at making his life a living nightmare. If he couldn't avoid them forever by transferring schools, than that would make sure that their paths would never cross again. He didn't feel bad about it until the next morning, and by then it was too late to do anything to do anything about it.

He wondered, in these dark hours when he was all by himself and had spent the day seeing the boys' faces and hearing their voices for real, and then remembering vague pleas and accusations of the imagined, if he still felt bad about it. (It had occurred to him a couple of times that if he got himself into Elitinati early enough, then maybe _this _Melvin wouldn't have to make the choice he had. In his half-asleep state at 3am, he thought that some part of him secretly wanted that.)

Through all of the nightmares and all of the sleepless nights, he kept going anyway. Constantly reaching for that seemingly unattainable dream. Once he changed the timeline, after all, he would be significantly happier, and then he wouldn't have to deal with them anymore. Until then he just had to get through a few more nights.

* * *

_Between kinda murdering two classmates when he was 9 and being in a horrible car accident where half of his body was completely wrecked to the point of needing to become a cyborg (and that's just what we know has happened to him in canon) Melvinborg is absolutely a mental mess. Look at this man and tell me that he gets a good night's sleep every night. I doubt it._

_It was fun overly researching this stuff. My favorite find was this quote on car accident trauma from the almighty WebMd: "The most important factor in recovering from the trauma of the accident is recognizing that you are having a problem and getting help, Mayou says._

_Like other types of trauma, car accidents can cause long-term stress that affects your work and relationships and can eventually lead to depression, anxiety, and sleep problems, says Alan Steinberg, PhD" And something very strongly tells me that Melvin would not consider getting mental help of any kind. So here we are. Hope you liked, R&R, have a good day._


	5. Chapter 5

_And now for something completely and totally tonally different._

A brief summary: Getting a crush on your boss was a fairly standard dilemma. It becomes a lot less standard when she was from 20 years in the past.

* * *

_Note: Reading of Meant to be Yours (my other MelvinborgxFuture|Erica thing) recommended but not necessary. It would just give you a better idea of my headcanons about these two and their relationship._

* * *

This wasn't supposed to happen, Melvinborg thought at his meeting with the superintendent. Gazing at her from across the table he felt his heart clench (in a way that was more than just a technological glitch), and he internally cursed himself.

While there were plenty of problems with going back in time (which he was going to continue to ignore), developing feelings for his boss was not one he had thought would happen.

He could not get a crush on her. Because he knew logically- even as his stomach seemed to flip as he stared at her deep brown eyes and perfect lashes while she discussed zoning- in his own time Grace Wain would be in her 50's. Among many many other issues with this whole ordeal.

He tried talking himself out of it with these reasonable objections, but it did nothing to stop the blush creeping up his face when she asked him a question, turning all of her focus towards him with an expression and tone that commanded attention.

He could only hope she didn't notice how red his human cheek was becoming, despite her gaze that seemed to miss nothing, as he stammered a reply.

He felt that telling heart clench again as she gave the barest of a smirking grin at his response, before carrying on with the meeting's agenda. But he couldn't pay attention to it, still picturing her smile. That smile undid him so easily and he hated that it did. This was not supposed to happen, he thought again. Hoping to ignore how off-guard she made him feel, he buried his head in his notes and tried to focus on _what_ was being said rather than _who_ was saying it.

That all flew out the window when they got into a debate regarding budget. Math was usually a social safe haven where he ruled over everyone else, dealing with figures and calculations well beyond anyone else's ability. There was nothing personal in math, only the correct and the incorrect. And every other person was always the incorrect. In mathematics he would best Grace Wain, she would be incorrect and fail, and if she wasn't to his level then clearly she wasn't worth his time and these feelings would go away.

Instead, he only fell further, a smile forming against his will, as she matched him turn for turn with math that would send anyone else scrambling for a calculator. Her way with numbers earned her a respect that Melvin awarded to very few people (in fact, there was only one other person he could remember ever even considering near an equal, but he dispelled the image of her before it could even form. _That_ was over. _That_ had been ended by his plan to go back in time.)

He listened intently to the remainder of the meeting, but not for the content. Instead he was marveling at the superindent's words, so clever and sharp, displaying even further her intellect. Every point he raised was met instantly with an apt counterpoint, resulting only in her gaining more of his admiration, bit by bit.

It seemed that despite all the logical arguments against it and the countless objective problems, that he couldn't help falling for Grace Wain. She was everything he respected in a woman. Intelligent, driven, strong. And beautiful. And he also got this feeling around her, like he had known her for a long time.

Well, he probably had since he was in the past. Presumably she had been the superintendent when he was a kid (he honestly couldn't remember if she was or not. He couldn't remember who the superintendent had been). Which just looped back around to why this shouldn't be happening. Because this was 20 years in the past, Grace Wain was old enough to be his mother, technically speaking. And she was his boss. And he had a plan to complete, one that she was constantly getting in the way of.

He burned any bridges he had when he went back in time to change his future. He would not and could not build any new ones. There was only one thing that mattered right now, and that was Elitinati. Not relationships. Especially not ridiculous illogical relationships with a woman from 20 years in the past.

"Well that does it for this meeting" she said, gathering her papers into a neat pile. He was simultaneously relieved and disappointed that he wouldn't be seeing her until another meeting (hopefully, at least. She was still his boss, and if he saw her before then it meant he did something very wrong.).

He started, feeling another treacherous blush on his face, as he looked up from gathering his own notes to find Grace giving him an intensely thoughtful look. "What?" he instinctively snapped, thrown off by her attention and never knowing how to deal with people.

She gave him yet another enigmatic smirk, and replied as she grabbed her things and stood up,

"Well, if you're absolutely certain about your future plans here, I guess I'll just be going."

She gave him a wink (what the heck did that mean), and walked out of the room, leaving him sitting at the table completely confused.

"Wha…?" he asked to the empty room, his cheek still warm from whatever that look was that she had given him.

Shaking off his confusion and (attempting) to get rid of those residual feelings, he recentered and re-focused on what he needed to do. He couldn't deal with having a crush on superintendent Grace Wain, he reminded himself once again. It didn't matter how he felt or how she felt, he was in the past and had a goal to achieve. He returned to his office, dreading and hoping for another meeting with his boss.

* * *

_This makes sense, I swear! Because if Melvin has a crush on Erica, and Grace Wain is just Erica with a fake name, doesn't it kind of make sense that Melvinborg could get a crush on Grace Wain? No? I'm completely insane? Oh, well. This was an entertaining write anyway._

_It was also fun, in a kind of roundabout way, to explore what it is about Erica that Melvin likes._

_Also don't ask me why he doesn't realize that Grace Wain is Erica. That's the show writer's plot hole, not mine. Guess he really is just that oblivious. Hope you enjoyed whatever this was. I haven't written any like crush and shipping stuff in a while it feels like, so hopefully it turned out well. R&R if you could, reviews make me happy._


	6. Chapter 6

Brief Summary: At Erica's going away party everyone's there...except for the one person that might miss her the most. She goes to find him and the two talk and clear the air on a lot of things.

* * *

_Takes place at the theoretical end of the fifth grade year, since in Hack-O-Ween Erica is still at Jerome Horwitz. My sister thinks (and I kind of agree) that Elitinati is likely a sort of private middle / secondary school, so Erica will likely be going there 6 - 8 grade. Makes enough sense to me! At least as much as anything is expected to make sense in the CU series._

* * *

So far Erica's going-away party had been going pretty much liked you'd expect. The fourth graders of Jerome Horwitz (and a few other grades as well) had said their goodbyes. George gave her a first-edition copy of the Plungerina comic they'd worked on together and Harold gave her a goodbye card as going-away presents. Gooch, crying heavily, had given her a hug which she gladly returned, reminding him that she was going to another school, not dying. Everyone had said their piece and/or given their gifts. Well nearly everyone. She couldn't help but notice that someone from their grade wasn't here. She had thought Melvin would want to see her this last time, maybe the most, since he had that not-so-secret secret crush on her.

But she asked around and no one else had seen him, either.

Out of curiosity, and her innate nature to put others first, she went looking for him, even though she didn't particularly want to see Melvin. Even at his best, he was difficult to deal with, but she knew he probably would want to at least say goodbye.

Predictably enough, she found him sitting in the back row of the science lab. Somewhat less predictably (though far from surprising), he was crying when she found him. As soon as he heard someone enter the room though, he straightened up and wiped off his face. He didn't stop crying for long though, because as soon as he saw the person was Erica he couldn't help but be sad again.

"Hey" she greeted in a gentle tone, "Don't you want to say goodbye to me?"

He didn't know what to say to that. Of course he did, but he also didn't want her to _leave_ in the first place. In the end, he didn't answer, and looked away after trying and failing to decide how to reply.

Erica went to sit next to him, and he tensed, nervous. Erica sighed, and decided that they had better deal with the elephant in the room.

"Look, Melvin, I know you have this crush on me.."

"It wasn't exactly being kept a secret" he muttered to the lab table, looking embarrassed.

"I know. Aaannd, I know that I haven't handled it the best. I haven't said anything before because you haven't exactly handled hurt feelings well in the past"

Melvin coughed guiltily into his fist at the reminder of his poorer decisions the previous school years. He interjected, trying to salvage Erica's apparently low opinion of him, "I'm attempting to be better about that now, I promise".

She smiled at that. She thought she had noticed improvement from his attitude and she was glad to learn that it was a conscious choice. "I know. I'm glad to hear it. But, Melvin, you _do _realize we're in elementary school, right? And even if we weren't and even if you are less of a jerk now, I don't think I'd reciprocate".

Melvin deflated sadly at the statement, slouching in his seat as he immediately assumed this to mean it was something that he had _done_ to make her feel this way. Erica hated him, why did he think it would be any other way?

Erica was worried by Melvin's silence, and she could tell by the look on his face that he was likely spiraling in self-doubt. She quickly intervened before anything worse could happen (with Melvin you could really never know. If you had asked her earlier she would have said with no hesitation that this was sure to turn angry and unpleasant quickly. Now, with what Melvin had told her about trying to be better she was less sure. All the same, better to be safe than sorry.)

"It's not because of anything you did. (At least, not recently)" she clarified, trying to sound reassuring, "It's not _you_. Calm down, Melvin"

As if her word was law, Melvin did, in fact, straighten up and get out of his own head, focusing on her, instead, with a cautiously hopeful look.

Now that his attention was fixed on her, Erica suddenly found herself shockingly unsure of what she wanted to say. She exasperatedly ran a hand down her face, trying to think about how to express herself. It was hard, because she didn't really know what she thought. Although she had known about his crush on her for a while, she never really put any thought into how she felt about it (besides annoyed at the implication that since she was a girl she was only of use if she was a love interest. But that was more annoyed at the universe than at him.) The answer in previous years easily would have been a strong "no". Melvin was mean, petty, and selfish-traits Erica absolutely despised. But just sitting here and talking - and when she thought about it throughout the school year this year- he wasn't being any of those things, and she wasn't as sure anymore. She still thought that he wouldn't be her type, but she was also smart enough to know that she was too young to really know what her "type" even was. She decided to say at least this much to him. They were the more impersonal, logical reasons to turn away his affections, which made this easier for him and for her.

"You just aren't my type, that's all. At least I think. We're really both way too young for relationship stuff, realistically"

"Oh" he replied, seemingly accepting her logic but still looking crest-fallen. She was honestly a little surprised. He had taken that way better than she had thought- usually he was awful with not getting what he wanted. She felt a small surge of affection at that. He really _was _getting better. And she was leaving right when he was becoming someone she might actually want to know.

She suddenly got an idea, one she usually would never consider, but what the heck, she was going to leave soon.

"Oh, here, I'll give you this. Consider it a going-away present to remember me by." Before Melvin could ask for clarification or explain that that wasn't how going-away presents usually worked, she leaned over and gave him a light peck on the cheek.

As she pulled away, he immediately dropped anything he was about to say and brought a hand up to his cheek, completely starstruck. Then the kiss, (even though it could barely even be considered that), gave him the courage to do the truly terrifying, and actually admit his feelings. "I'll really miss you, Erica. I wish you could just stay here". He did not say he wished he could go, too. Elitinati was still a somewhat complicated matter, and he didn't know how he felt or should feel about it.

She smiled sadly in response, "Melvin, you know probably better than anyone that I have to go there".

While uncomfortable at the reminder of the events at the end of last school year, he replied dejectedly, "I know".

Erica moved to leave, and Melvin suddenly remembered something important, and turned to stop her, "I have a going-away present for you as well, actually". Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a simple metal chain with a single round charm on it, handing it out to her hesitantly.

"A...necklace" she responded, looking at the gift in his hand, disappointed and confused. "Yeah, it's very sweet but I'm not a jewelry kind of girl".

Melvin quickly acted to correct her growing misconception that he was a sexist who assumed that all girls liked jewelry, "No, no! It's not a necklace" he protested, adding sheepishly, "Well, not just a necklace." At her still-unconvinced look, he continued, displaying the necklace more clearly, "It's an invention of mine"

"I know that you hate wearing uniforms, and Elitinati's aren't the most comfortable. So this device," he explained, pointing towards the singular round charm, "places a hologram over your clothing. That way you can wear whatever you want while attending Elitinati but avoid getting in trouble". He gave the chain to her shyly, hoping he had given the right gift.

Erica had to admit, she was impressed. Both at the invention and the fact Melvin actually remembered and cared that she said she didn't like uniforms. Of course, it wasn't that she didn't like wearing them but that she hated the conformity of them (which this device theoretically couldn't fix), but it was the thought that counted. And he had clearly put thought into this gift.

She put the necklace on, and thanked him with a smile. He gave her another one of those uncertain smiles in return, and she was a little sad that she was only just now seeing them when she was about to leave the city and probably not see him again. Which gave her another idea.

"Hey" she said bluntly, "Gimme your phone".

"O-okay?" startled, he handed her his phone and she went to give herself a contact. She couldn't help but notice, as she saved the information, that her number was one of only four-sitting next to Home, Mother, and Future Me. Seeing the contact there was a little disturbing, and she couldn't help but ask about it as she handed the phone back. "Why do you still have that contact?"

"Oh. That." He toyed with his phone, taking a moment to try and find the words to best explain himself while Erica waited patiently.

"It's just… proof that all of _that _actually happened, I suppose. Erasing _him _from existence means that there's not much around to prove that those events actually transpired. Although" he added thoughtfully, face screwed up in concentration as he mentally traversed his way through the weeds of theory, "technically speaking they _didn't_? Because if I don't become him I don't go back in time, so it didn't happen after all? Of course it all depends on which theory of time you're working from. Perhaps he's simply gone from this particular timeline. There's a possibility that in a different dimension in a different time he does in fact still exist…" He rambled on about theories and dimensions for a while longer, postponing any discussion on an actual answer. In truth, he was uncertain if he wanted to talk about this at all. He hadn't talked to anyone about it, not his parents, not any other students, not even Karaoke Kitty. But, he realized, Erica was possibly the only other person who could understand the pressure of knowing your future. If he were to talk to _anyone_ she would probably be the best.

Cutting off mid-thought from his musing over the Butterfly Effect, he took a deep breath and admitted, "I keep that there as a reminder" he glanced over at Erica to see her reaction, and she looked at him attentively as she gestured for him to go on. "I made the choice to not be like him. But it's hardly been easy. Classes here are still insultingly simplistic and boring, George and Harold are still obnoxiously dense, and it can all be so _frustrating_. So, if I'm mad, and I want to take it out on the school or our classmates, sometimes I can look at that and remember what I don't want to become".

Erica mulled over all of this, and she had to say she felt for the guy. She knew the pressure of knowing what the future held, but at least she knew she had a good one. She hadn't really considered how it might be for Melvin, but now that she was she could see what he was worried about. The only version of his future that he knew for sure had been awful.

"I get it" she finally decided to say, "But, I don't think you have to worry so much. The future isn't a set thing, otherwise I wouldn't have to work so hard. Sure, my current future self may be the President of Earth, but if I were to change something, to drop out of school or to stay here, then the future would change. _You _have changed and so has your future. So keep doing what you're doing. Even if it means keeping creepy ghost contacts of someone who no longer exists. I guess if it helps, it helps".

Melvin went back to toying with his phone, reflecting on what Erica said. It was a relief, honestly, to talk to someone about all of this, and even more of a relief to have someone tell him he was doing ok. (He had tried to assure himself that enough times, but there was always a doubt in his mind that even if in the future he didn't go back in time who's to say what his life was like? It meant so much more to hear the assurances come from someone else.)

But he still felt emotionally exposed, and he didn't like it, even if it was a way to talk with Erica, so he tried to turn the conversation away from himself, "With a speech like that it's no wonder you'll become president. Elitinati should consider themselves lucky to have you" After a brief pause, he added, more quietly, "Thanks, Erica".

He winced as she slapped him on the back, "No prob. Now come on, let's get to the party. Bo even made cupcakes"

Nodding, he slid off the stool and followed behind her to the door. Before they left the room, though, Erica turned to him and said one more thing, "And you have my number now. So if you want to talk about the future, or science, or my school, or whatever, you can just text me"

It wasn't the bunsen burner lit, romantic scientific date he had envisioned himself having with Erica if he ever actually got far enough to interact with her, but in a way the idea of simply conversing with her sounded even better. He was glad that, even if she was leaving the school he would still be able to have a conversation with someone intelligent. (He was hating his classmates less and less, but it would still be nice to have someone to talk to who would actually understand all of what he said.)

"I will" he promised sincerely.

Erica returned the sentiment with one of her characteristic grins, and playfully gave him a shove into the hall, the two of them leaving the empty science lab behind them.

* * *

_Man this was tricky to write. I wanted to write something with Melvin and Erica because I think they should interact more, and his crush on her is pretty cute. Although, I don't really know what Erica's opinion on Melvin's crush really is. She uses it to her advantage a couple of times, but doesn't exactly acknowledge it. I don't see Melvin as being particularly her type, even after he cleans up his act S3 and onward, but as they're both children who really knows. I've tried to leave their relationship ambiguous and platonic at best, so you can just see what you want._

_I also find it interesting that they share this thing where they've seen their futures, so I wanted to do something with that too. _

_Hope you guys liked. Comment, leave kudos, all that good stuff._


	7. Chapter 7

A brief summary: Melvin falls in a forest, and nobody cares.

* * *

_Whoops here I am again with a post-S3 fic. How'd that happen? Anyway takes place at the end of S3 Ep 12 Sugamechanger. _

* * *

"...I was just lying there on the ground, waiting for someone to come get me. 'Any second now', I kept thinking. 'Any second now'. But yea, nobody came, so..."

― Val Emmich, Dear Evan Hansen

"When you're falling in a forest and there's nobody around, all you want is for somebody to

find you. When you're falling in a forest, and when you hit the ground, all you need is for somebody to find you" - "Disappear" from Dear Evan Hansen

Melvin rubbed at his sore arm, and his sore back, and his sore head, and his sore just about everything as he sat up from where he lay on the forest floor, and looked at his surroundings. He was somewhere in the woods across the lake. By his rough estimate he had been shpronged around a mile away, and it was really a wonder of fantastical levels that he wasn't more seriously hurt. Wrapping his arms around his legs, he glared into the distance and pouted. Well that didn't go as planned. He couldn't believe that George and Harold had decided to side with Mr Krupp after all.

"I'm going to have _words _for them when they find me" he muttered into his crossed arms, "What were they thinking designing a sugar robot anyway? It's a ridiculously impractical design." (Naturally the thought did not occur to him to ridicule _himself _for building such a silly thing.)

He sat quietly, listening to the sounds of the forest around him and waiting for the other campers to come and get him. (Of course, they were all idiots, so it was bound to take a little while.) Despite the relatively warm day, he shivered as a cool wind blew by him. Perhaps taking off his shirt had been poorly thought out. Then again he had been expecting to be back in his cabin excitedly anticipating a future visit to space camp right now, not stuck in the middle of the woods with no shelter.

He checked the time on his phone (which was also by some fantastic miracle unharmed beyond a cracked screen), and noted that he had been out here for at least fifteen minutes.

_They'll find me any minute now. And then I'll just glare at George and Harold, and tell them how horrible of an idea their "Sugamechanger" was, and they'll feel bad about what they caused to happen to me. Any minute now. _

Looking for something to do while he waited (and starting to get chilly in the shade), he used the lenses of his glasses to start a small fire, and settled beside it to wait, arms still crossed and expression still stormy.

Other than occasionally rubbing at a sore limb, or flailing to prevent mosquitoes from sucking his blood, he did not move from his spot.

When he next checked his phone, it had been an estimated forty-five minutes since he had gotten launched away from camp. "What is taking them so long?" he groused, starting to get a little worried as the sun sunk lower towards the horizon, "Even an idiot like Krupp should have found me by now. Not to mention how skilled I'm sure Erica is at forest tracking" he couldn't help how his voice wavered thinking about Erica searching the woods for him, but the good feelings he had from thinking about Erica looking for him were replaced by a renewed anger when he remembered how Krupp had stolen his chance to dance with her the night before. Which reminded him about how the camp was destroyed, which reminded him why he was out here and why she would have to be looking for him in the first place.

"I suppose I'll also have to yell at George and Harold about taking so long to find me, whenever they get here. In addition to everything else that they've done wrong".

He sat by his small fire, occasionally poking at it to prevent it from going out, and looked worriedly at the low hanging sun. At this rate it was going to be dark by the time anyone found him. He tried not to panic at the idea, or the quickly growing thought of the worse-case scenario of no one finding him and him being left alone in these woods overnight with possibly vicious animals and no supplies of any kind. Scared, though he wouldn't admit it out loud, he anxiously checked his phone again. That didn't help, as he saw that he had been alone in these woods for approximately two hours.

"What is _taking _so long?!" he shouted, angry and afraid. Enough of his passive-aggressive plan of waiting for them to find him, for once getting found was more important than being petty. Pulling up an app on his homescreen, he decided that he would just have to check on them and see what the hold up was.

Using his eye-in-the-sky 2000, a robotic spying vuture he had built in his off time, he directed it to fly over the camp and see where they were in their search efforts.

He gawked for a moment in disbelief when the vulture had flown all over the camp, and there was no sign of any search party at all. Everyone in the camp had seemingly resumed their normal activities.

"That-that can't be right. _Someone _has to be looking for me" he stammered, and he directed the vulture to focus in on Mr Krupp. He was lounging in a beach chair eating guacamole and looking very proud of himself and not the least bit concerned.

"Well we all know Krupp is hardly the paragon of humane concern" he reassured himself, flying the invention to look at George and Harold, who though they were enemies would at least remember his unfortunate outcome in their alliance. And they were a couple of bleeding hearts anyway, surely they were trying…

The eye-in-the-sky 2000 found them in their cabin, drawing comics on their new luxury funded-by-the-func beds and not looking like they were planning to move any time soon.

"Who needs those two bent coatracks anyway!" he yelled at his phone screen, growing steadily more panicked, "I'm sure at least _Erica _is attempting to organize these rejects into a useful search party. She's the only other person in that camp that has any sense!" But when the camera focused on Erica eating sushi and laughing casually with other camp members, Melvin nearly dropped his phone in distress.

Eyes locked onto the the perversely normal and happy images, he stood up and kicked roughly at his little fire, causing it to flicker out, shouting, "Have they all _forgotten _that I got _launched _into the middle of the woods!? I could be seriously injured, I could have broken my arm, I could be being eaten by wild animals, and they're _not even looking for me!_"

_Do they just not care? _he thought, desperately looking over the camp once more for any sign that his absence had been noticed. No matter how many times he circled the camp, though, there was no trace of concern among any of the campers.

As the sun started to set, casting long shadows on the ground, he threw his phone onto the forest floor and started to pace in angry circles.

"Well, I don't need them anyway!" he shouted to the empty forest, voice a pitch higher than normal from the fear and despair that he couldn't completely get rid of, "I'll be _fine _out here on my own, because I'm _smart_. Better than fine. I'll create something to get back at those lazy, careless, mis-shelved books. Then they'll see that they should have looked for me sooner!"

His monologue to himself was doing a lot to distract him from the dread of the darkening woods, at least until he heard a high-pitched howling that made him jump.(He knew, factually, that it was coyotes and not wolves, but somehow that did little to make him feel any better.) After that he decided to make his pacing a bit more productive, and, scooping his phone back up, went to look for shelter. Could he have found his way back to camp on his own? Of course he could, he was a genius, he knew how directions worked. But then he wouldn't be able to make the rest of the campers _sorry_. So he obstinately walked away from the direction of the camp to find someplace less out in the open. Maybe if he just stayed out here _then _people would care to try and find him.

A few minutes later, shivering in the night air and guided by the flashlight of his phone, he finally found what seemed to be a relatively sound and sheltered cave, and settled down on a convenient rock inside. He pulled back up his spying app, and looked through the camp one last time. Despite how angry he wanted to be, a part of him was still hoping that any moment _someone, anyone_, would look around and say, "Hey, where's Melvin? Hasn't he been gone a while? Hmm, didn't he get launched by that giant robot?" That he could know that he mattered to someone.

Of course, the hour got later, and no one did, and he allowed himself to be fully mad at them again. Come morning, they were going to regret this, he told himself despite how the call to Mel-vindication made him feel slightly sick (_you said you weren't going to do this anymore. You don't want to end up like __him_). Throwing those cautions to the wind, he plotted several different ways of getting back at everyone, rationalizing that this time he was justified. They had abandoned him, which as far as he could tell was a perfectly reasonable call for vengeance. Especially for George and Harold, since this was their fault in the first place. Turning off his phone - partially to save the battery and partially because he didn't want to look at the camp anymore- he curled up on top of the solitary stone and decided to spend the night in this cave. Shivering once again, and a part of him still hoping that someone would come looking for him, he tried to go to sleep. Mel-vindication would begin in the morning.

* * *

_Ugh, rewatching the end of season 3 was a mistake. The last two episodes are literally my least favorites in the entire series, because Melvin is right to try and get Krupp fired, and he tries to be friends with G&H (he even literally says that. He literally says "the enemy of you enemy is your friend" and he's pretty adamant about it), but gets violently launched into the woods, no one looks for him, apparently, and the last episode is just him being sad and lonely FOR NO GOOD REASON. Gah! So here's another S3 fic where I just express my bitterness._

_Anyway, I'll stop being depressing and melodramatic eventually. With any luck what the Hack-o-Ween special started will stick. Fingers crossed for that. _

_R&R etc, thanks for reading. See you next oneshot, which I promise will be a happier one. _


	8. Chapter 8

A Brief Summary: Never having trick-or-treated before, Melvin's a little out of the loop on what to do when he goes with George and Harold. Continuing the kindness they started, the two are more than willing to teach him. (The trick-or-treating/friendship scene we all deserved.)

* * *

_While I loved the ending of the Hack-a-Ween special (because of course I did, I'm a Melvin fan), I do feel like it ended right before the best part of all my boys hanging out and being friends. So I'm attempting to rectify that with this added "epilogue" of sorts to the special._

_Also, a note on continuity, in case anyone cares: since Halloween was restored at the end of the special, I figured they'd end up going Trick-or-Treating rather than Sneak-or-Snacking. Also, you know, Melvin Trick-or-Treating for the first time was too good of an opportunity to pass by._

* * *

"That's not how you do it"

"Yeah, Melvin" added Harold, in a more gentle tone than George had used, "You don't have to ring the bell if they just left a bowl out. You just...take the candy".

Ignoring the bowl, and walking down the steps of the house empty-handed, Melvin retorted defensively, "Well how was I supposed to know that? Why wouldn't I ring the doorbell? That's how trick-or-treating works" he added under his breath, not wanting to admit that he had little to no idea what he was doing, "At least, that's how it's worked at every other house. This is my first time trick-or-treating, after all".

George and Harold were surprised at the admission, "Wait" asked George hoping he had just misunderstood what Melvin meant (which happened often enough), "You mean that you've never been trick-or-treating _at all_?"

"We just thought that you've never gone with anyone" added Harold worriedly, "You've never gone even by yourself?"

"Well, no" replied Melvin embarrassedly. He had always assumed that everyone knew that and were intentionally not inviting him, that's why he was so angry at Halloween. Trick-or-treating alone as an activity was never the point. "If I can't eat the candy, and have no one to go with, why would I bother?"

"I don't know," suggested Harold uncertainly, "For the experience? Or something like that?"

"But" persisted George, scratching his head at how Melvin was already almost 10 and had somehow _never _tried trick-or-treating, "Wouldn't your parents take you? We saw your mom, she said she really liked Halloween".

Melvin just shrugged at the question and turned away from the conversation, determinedly walking towards another house. George and Harold shared a look at his sudden quiet and decided it would just be better to drop it.

"Well, that's alright" said George, catching up with Melvin and moving in front of him to face him, "We can just show you! I mean, trick-or-treating's not that hard".

As they continued towards the next house, George gestured at the door, suggesting eagerly, "Why don't you lead at the next house? Just ring the doorbell, and when they answer it say 'trick-or-treat'. And, boom, free candy".

"Yes I understand the basic concept", snarked Melvin, rolling his eyes but with no real anger in his tone, "I have been paying attention while we've been doing this".

"Alright then!" cheered George, giving him a shove towards the doorstep, "Go get 'em!"

Fiddling with the edges of his borrowed cape, he stumbled towards the door, suddenly irrationally nervous. _What if I do something wrong? _He started to worry, _What if I accidentally actually eat the candy and make myself sick again? What if I __**do**_ _do something wrong, and George and Harold don't want to go trick-or-treating with me anymore? _

Taking a steadying breath, he reached up and rang the doorbell. _A simple concept_ he reminded himself, _ring the bell, say trick-or-treat, adult puts candy in the bucket. It is literally elementary_.

The door opened, and an adult dressed as an astronaut stood in the doorway holding a bowl of candy and looking at him expectantly.

"Trick-or-treat…?" he tried to say in a strong voice, but his nerves got the better of him and the sentence tapered off. Looking back, he saw George giving him an encouraging thumbs-up. Harold held his treat bag out from himself exaggeratedly, and Melvin realized that he was supposed to do the same. Belatedly he turned back towards the adult and offered his hastily-bought pumpkin bucket.

Behind their cheap plastic helmet, the astronaut gave an amused smile (which was hopefully a good thing?), "Well, a scientist super-hero. That's not something you see every Halloween. Here ya go" Melvin kept his mouth shut while the grown-up put a handful of candy in his bucket, even though he wanted to say that the scientist part wasn't really a costume. But he knew that insulting the people giving out free things was not how one trick-or-treated.

Instead he just said thank you and stepped down onto the pathway, the adult behind him calling out "Happy Halloween!"

Leaving the house, Melvin looked thoughtfully at the bucket of candy he couldn't eat. For once this actually _was _a happy Halloween for him, and because of George and Harold, no less. He was actually out here being the trick-or-treater instead of the candy giver, and he had acquaintances (not friends, he couldn't get ahead of himself) to go trick-or-treating with. It was a vast improvement from the years past spent practically alone in his house watching everyone else be happy.

"Hey! You did great!" greeted Harold when he rejoined the group.

George tipped the edge of the bucket, peeking inside, "Let's see what you got! Hmm Crunch bars, not bad, not bad. And Kitkats, a classic".

"If you say so" Melvin replied, obviously not having any context to confirm or deny George's assessment of his candy acquisition. George and Harold got to comparing their stashes, and debating on which candies were the best, and he suddenly felt overwhelmed with emotion. Happiness, being one of them, and something he was very unused to on this particular day. And guilt being the other one. How could he have tried to destroy this? Now that he was actually having fun, he could see how Halloween mattered so much to people. He quickly said, before he could stop to think about it, "I really am sorry. About all of the monsters and trying to destroy Halloween".

George and Harold stopped short in their debate, and George waved it off, "It's ok. We kinda get it. Doesn't make it less of a jerk move, but we get it".

"And for what it's worth" added Harold looking strangely guilty as well, "we're sorry too. We didn't exactly make Halloween fun for you the last few years."

"Yeah" followed George, seeing what Harold was saying, even though he had never thought about it before himself, "I guess I can kinda see how a Halloween that's all trick and no treat might kinda suck". Shrugging, he added casually, "Oh, well. Water under the fence now, right?"

"That's not-" he started to criticize but then decided that it wouldn't be worth it. He didn't want to ruin this new rapport (not a friendship, he cautiously warned himself) so quickly. It was a miracle that he didn't understand that they had invited him trick-or-treating (eh, sneak-or-snaking but that was a mere technicality) in the first place, and now even more of a miracle that they were apologizing. "Thank you" he blurted out instead, unsure of what to say.

"Sure! This can be another fresh start for us" encouraged Harold.

_*Fresh Start!*_

"Enough sappy stuff!" cried George, slamming a fist into his open palm, "Let's go get free food! Charge!" he shouted, running in the direction of another house.

"George, wait up!" yelped Harold, jogging after him. Melvin just shook his head at the both of them and walked after the two. He certainly wasn't going to be running when he was supposed to be having fun. His superhero name may have been Melvinhaler, but that didn't mean that he wanted to have to use his inhaler. And for once, he found he actually trusted George and Harold to not ditch him. He couldn't say why, since all previous evidence suggested that they would leave as soon as he was no longer standing right next to them, but he did. Maybe this was a fresh start for real this time.

His feeling was validated when he made it to another house, and George and Harold were standing on the street in front instead of rushing ahead, clearly waiting for him.

"Finally" groaned George in (hopefully) mock exasperation, "You took like forever to get here"

"I took approximately fifteen seconds longer," he retorted.

"I really think it was longer than that. But, whatever, let's go!" George and Harold shot up the porch steps and, once again, Melvin followed behind them. He was having a good time, but still wasn't 100% confidant in his trick-or-treating abilities. Better to let George and Harold, with their limitless energy and years of expertise take the lead.

At least, that was his plan, but the two of them apparently were not content to let him take a backseat during his first time trick-or-treating, and quickly pulled him to stand right between them while Harold rang the house's doorbell.

They did a similar thing at the next houses, making sure that they all faced the door together while ringing bells or knocking on doors. As the night went on, they even slowed their pace to match his, walking beside him from house to house, carrying on conversations about George and Harold things. The topics never interested him, mainly, but every now and again it drifted into territories where he could contribute something. (Evidently neither of them had known he had a fondness for Star Wars. The moment he mentioned the series both George and Harold's eyes lit up.

"So you _can _like normal kid things!" Harold exclaimed. He tried to not let himself be offended by that, and instead attempted to build off of this new-found common ground.)

The night passed by, and soon the last of the porchlights and jack-o-lanterns had gone dark. While Harold stood laughing in the middle of the street at the costume the adult at the last house had been wearing, and George dramatically joked about its potential backstory, Melvin awkwardly looked around and wondered what happened next. The trick-or-treating was clearly coming to an end, but he wasn't certain if that meant it was time for him to return home. But he could think of nothing else he could do here, so taking off the cape he handed it back to Harold, saying, "Thank you, again, for all of this. I suppose I'll be going home now".

Holding the cape, Harold looked at Melvin with a disappointed frown, "You're leaving?"

"Well, yes. We _have_ finished trick-or-treating."

"But you're going to miss one of the best parts!" exclaimed George, taking the cape from Harold and giving it back to him. Sharing a look with Harold, and Harold nodding as if answering a question that only the two of them could hear, George added cryptically, "Follow us. There's one more house for you to visit".

"Okay?"

As he followed behind George and Harold, a small part of him started to fear that this was going to be one of their tricks after all. They had been nice so far this night, but he couldn't help but feel paranoid as they lead him blindly to parts unknown. The fact that they were sharing excited grins didn't help his anxiety.

That fear dissolved a little as he started to recognize the area they were walking through. This looked like George and Harold's street. The three of them turning towards two houses that stood side by side, the edges of a treehouse visible behind the roof of the house, he realized that this WAS their street.

"You're inviting me over to your house?" he couldn't help but gasp. Trick-or-treating was one thing, but being invited over was so much more personal. It was like an actual friend thing.

"Sure, why not? We've been to your place often enough" replied George, clearly not understanding the weight his offer held for Melvin, who had never been to anyone's house except for his own.

"Every Halloween, after we finish trick-or-treating, George and I dump out all of our candy in the treehouse, watch some scary movies, and, uh, you know" he decided not to mention that one of their evening activities was organizing a yearly trick on Melvin. If they learned anything from this crazy day it was that it was probably time they broke that tradition. "So that's what we're gonna do. Can't let you have an incomplete first trick-or-treating experience".

He was stunned to silence as they walked up the path to George's house. First being invited along for trick-or-treating, and now George wanting him over at his house? _When did the two of them start to care so much,_ he wondered.

Cutting, through George's house, George shouted out as they entered, "Mom we're back! Me, Harold, and my buddy Melvin are going to the treehouse"

A voice responded from another room, "Ok sweetie. Just be in bed by 9, ok?"

"Mooom" groaned George, "It's Halloween, come on!"

Mrs Beard chuckled, then conceded, "9:30 then. Have fun"

As they approached the treehouse, Melvin looked up at the ladder with some trepidation. George and Harold shot up it effortlessly, even while holding heavy bags of candy. For them the act was muscle memory by now. Melvin struggled up the ladder after them, taking lengthy pauses between laboriously pulling himself up a wrung. Normally he wouldn't bother to put himself through such torture, but being allowed - invited, even- into the headquaters of Treehouse Comix inc was exceptional enough an occasion for him to make an effort for it. Finally pulling himself inside the treehouse, he looked around the space. The walls were covered in posters, the room strewn with very...George and Harold knicknacks, and the two friends were laid down on the floor amongst gigantic piles of candy. He looked between the two of them and and stiffly sat crosslegged across from them, his bucket at his side.

"Go ahead and dump that sucker" grinned George enthusiastically, looking up at him from where he was sorting piles of treats.

"Excuse me?"

"The bucket. It's waaaayy easier to sort through everything if you dump it out. Trust us" explained Harold.

"Alright" he agreed as he tenitavely up-ended his candy bucket, at this point too outside of his familiar territory to distrust Harold's word. "You two do, admittedly, understand this better than I do". But even as he said that, internally he cringed at the chaotic mess he had made.

"Ok" Harold added informatively, his finger pointed authoritatively in the air, "Now that you have it out you can-" he was about to explain about the intricacies of proper candy sorting, but looking at Melvin he realized that he was already doing just that; setting bars into neat stacks, organizing the packages into specific piles, and setting aside the rare treat that wasn't candy.

"Never mind" he said instead, amused and a bit proud of their "student", "You've got it".

"I do?" responded Melvin in surprise, but immediately covering up his doubtful reply by saying, with an attempt at confidence, "Well, of course I do. Organization is one of my strong suits".

Shaking his head at the remark, Harold went back to sorting through his own pile, placing them in stacks that ranged from "favorite" to "ok" to "garbage candy".

"Ew, carrot sticks?!" he exclaimed when he found a small package of what he had _thought _was candy corn buried in the pile, "What kind of sick adult would give out carrot sticks?!"

Looking up from where he had been focused on sorting the candies by type, Melvin gave him a sceptical look, "Well, you two _did _make it Hack-a-Ween. It only makes sense that they would be a little confused." Placing yet another lolipop he couldn't eat into an ever-growing hoard he added, "And I fail to see what's so wrong with carrots, anyway. At least I would be able to eat them" he grumbled under his breath as he surveyed his pitifully small collection of treats he could actually enjoy. So far it consisted of a bag of pretzels, a popcorn ball, and a rice krispie treat. And _that _was in questionable territory given the sheer amount of marshmallow in it.

Considering this, and looking between Melvin and the disgusting vegetables, Harold got an idea. A chance to further the trick-or-treating lesson _and _get rid of the carrots, "Well, would you like to trade?"

Melvin raised a brow at the question but didn't outright say no, so Harold continued, "I'll give em to you for...say...two bags of skittles".

Shrugging, Melvin grabbed the requested candy, and handed it over, agreeing, "Deal." Carrot sticks acquired he couldn't help but want to somehow make this arrangement more formal, "Is that all that's required? No form? Not even a handshake to seal the deal?"

"Trick-or-treat trading is a lot more chill than that. If I say 'ok' and you say 'ok', then it's ok".

"Ew" they heard George complain, holding up a similar-looking bag, "I can't believe some grown up gave me celery sticks." Looking around, he asked desperately, "Anyone want to trade?"

Harold laughed and the question, and Melvin awkwardly joined him. They spent well over an hour sorting and trading, and listening to "spooky" music (Melvin thought most of the songs were childish and uninspired, but George and Harold insisted that they were "traditional"). Frankly Melvin enjoyed this part almost more than the actual trick-or-treating. It was quiet, didn't require physical activity, and was entirely centered around organizing items and negotiating deals. So he surprisingly found himself disappointed as the trio heard Mrs Beard called out, "Five minutes left kids! Better start packing up!"

"It would appear it's once again time for me to go home". Melvin said, gathering his treats and putting them back into his bucket. Through generous trading he managed to get a decently sized pile of non-candy. He wasn't sure what he would do with the things he couldn't eat, but he'd figure it out.

Harold groaned, throwing a hand over his face as he laid dramatically on the ground, "George, your mom seriously can't let us stay up any later?"

"Not likely" replied George, scooping up his own hoard of candy and swiping away the empty wrappers of pieces eaten along the way.

Untying the cape for the second time that night, Melvin once again gave it back to Harold. Sitting up, Harold considered the disguise and pushed it back into Melvin's hands. "Keep it." he said kindly, before immediately getting a bit embarrassed, "Well, er, I mean. I know it's technically just a towel, but, you know, you never know when the world might need the Spinoffs again. And we...wouldn't be able to be the Spinoffs without Melvinhaler, right?"

"Can't be a superhero without a cape" chimed in George matter-of-factly.

"Right" Melvin replied, but it came out more like a question. George and Harold's actions this night had been confusing, but this took the cake. In case they needed the Spinoffs _again_? As in, George and Harold would actually consider having his company again?

"Welp" said Harold grabbing his candy and giving a quick fake salute, apparently oblivious to the the effect that his generous action had had on Melvin (who was now just staring at the cape in his hand in something resembling shock), "See you guys tomorrow".

"Later" replied George, waving goodbye.

Tearing his eyes away from the now no-longer-just-borrowed cape, instead Melvin watched Harold slide down the ladder as he tied it back around his shoulders. Grabbing his own bucket, he offered George a hesitant wave and started to climb down the ladder as well.

"See you at school tomorrow, Melvinhaler," said George with a smile and returning his wave with a significantly more enthusiastic one.

Melvin paused in his climbing, and gave George a slight smile in return. "And I suppose I'll see you as well."

After he slowly returned to the ground, Melvin hugged his pumpkin-bucket to his chest and found he couldn't stop smiling. Walking back home, he kept smiling; reflecting that this had been a fantastic night despite how the day had started out. He had gotten to trick-or-treat like everyone else for the first time, was invited over to another kid's house, and had actually had fun in George's treehouse.

It was, for once, a Happy Halloween indeed.

**Epilogue**

Despite the momentousness of the previous night, the next school day went very much like any other. (Except perhaps for the fact that his classmates were avoiding him more, but since they hardly ever talked to him anyway Melvin frankly didn't notice their cold shoulders.) That is, until lunch, anyway.

He was sitting at his usual spot, alone and quiet in the corner, simultaneously working on the homework that was due the next day and looking over the blueprints for his inanimanitator 2000 in the hopes of repairing (and likely improving) it , when his table suddenly became less alone and quiet.

"Hey Melvin" greeted Harold, setting down his brown bagged lunch as Melvin stared at him. He continued to stare as George followed right after his friend, sitting down across from the previously lone inventor.

"What's up" asked George casually.

"What are you two doing here?" asked Melvin, trying to make sense of the fact that other people were actually sitting at his table at lunch, and deciding that there had to be some kind of ulterior motive. George and Harold had just been being too nice to him. Surely they wanted something. They were only nice to him when it was convenient for them.

"Just saying 'hi'" replied Harold, taking a bite out of his sandwich which may or may not have been made out of Halloween candy. "Las nigh' waf a lot of fun" he continued to say as he ate his lunch.

"Don't talk with your mouth full. It's disgusting!" criticized Melvin-both disgusted by Harold's behavior and still confused by why they were sitting here and wanting to sidetrack.

Turning to George, he voiced his doubts out loud, "You two are seriously sitting here purely because you wanted to say 'hi' to me?"

"Actually, yeah" replied George, digging into his own-but equally sugary to Harold's- lunch. "Last night we realized that when you aren't being awful you're actually ok to hang out with."

"I take it I'm supposed to consider that a compliment," said Melvin, not sure if he should feel offended at the "awful" comment or touched at the suggestion that George had actually enjoyed his company.

"Oh, wait," exclaimed Harold as he dug in his backpack to look for something, "We actually _did _have another reason for sitting at your table!" Fishing around a little longer, Harold finally retrieved what looked like a pile of papers, and handed them to Melvin. "This is for you".

Grabbing it, Melvin vaguely looked over the unexpected gift. "One of your comics? Wow, thanks" he replied sarcastically, not understanding what made it so urgent for him to read this when he would have gotten ahold of it later anyway.

"No. It's _our_ comic" clarified Harold, pointing out the details of the cover art, "It's a copy of the special Spinoffs comic we made last night. George and I figured you should have a copy, since you're a part of it and all".

Melvin regarded the comic with a new appreciation. _It is nice to have a comic where I'm not the villain for once_, he considered. He may have been there when it was written, and to a certain extent lived the events of the comic, but all the same he looked forward to reading it later.

"Well, in that case, thank you " he replied more genuinely, flipping through the pages and fully expecting the two of them to leave now that their business was concluded. To his surprise, George and Harold stayed where they were. Before he could think any further on their strange behavior, George suddenly asked, seemingly to no one in particular, "So, who would win in a fight, General Grievous or Kylo Ren?"

"Kylo Ren is a joke of a villain," argued Melvin immediately, his attention instantly fixed on the subject, making him forget to question why George was here or was asking anything. "Even a dysfunctioning cyborg like Grievous could defeat him".

Melvin was so involved in debating the results of the theoretical battle, that he didn't notice George and Harold's shared grins. Before he could elaborate why he was correct, diving into the important complexities of lore and canon, Harold light-heartedly countered, "But Kylo Ren can, like, freeze lasers with the Force! General Grievous can't even use the force".

Before he even realized what was happening, Melvin ended up spending the rest of lunch conversing with George and Harold instead of doing homework or even working on his invention-even after the topic had turned away from Star Wars.

When the bell finally rang, sending them all back to their classes, George and Harold grabbed their things and left as if this were a completely normal occurrence and nothing remarkable had happened at all, giving him cheery waves as they stood up. He decided he would just have to give up on trying to make sense of why they were deciding to be nice to him all of the sudden.

When he left at his own pace, a moment after his two unexpected lunch mates had gotten up, Melvin tucked his things back into his bag, occasionally glancing in the direction that George and Harold had left and still amazed and confused that that had actually just happened. The comic he packed up last, staring at the cover with a kind of happy pride, before putting it in a pocket of its own with extra care. A part of him hoped that that comic was a signifier of better things to come.

* * *

_Here, any fellow Melvin fans, hope you liked reading this as much as I liked writing it. R&R, I always enjoy having reviews. _

_(Side note: can't remember which book it's in, but Melvin liking Star Wars comes from him having a poster of Darth Vader in his room. The way I see it, if book canon isn't directly contradicted by the show, I just apply one to the other. It also seemed like something all three of them could bond over and use as a common ground. At least until Melvin proclaims his strong anti-Disney stance, and then marks George and Harold as low brow heretics for liking the Sequel Trilogy.)_


End file.
